If I can't hold NOW until the morrow,
Nor can find its seedlings in days ere gone,
Nor can trace them from time's trackless hollow,
I scarce can make it stand still on its own.
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I must offer my apologies for not reverting back to you grateful for such encouraging feedback. Thank you so much
That weighty past! ! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Yes, weighty past and feather-weight morrows, what matters is the present moment. Thanks for visiting.